


Hand of God (The Do Unto You Remix)

by sequence_fairy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Shiro, Light dom/sub undertones, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sheith are extremely fucking married, Vibrators, authority kink, service top keith, using Shiro's Altean hand for sexy purposes wink wink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 00:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19139488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: Shiro’s on the couch, head tipped back, eyes closed, legs spread wide, and one foot planted on the cushions. Shiro’s bent knee is in the way, but Keith knows what he’s doing without seeing it. Shiro doesn’t know Keith’s here, and maybe, Keith kind of likes knowing that, watching Shiro take himself apart is always a pleasure, but it’s different when Shiro doesn’t know he’s being watched. It’s both more and less restrained, and Keith’s hands curl into firsts, when Shiro breathes out on a hitching whine.Keith walks in on Shiro, enjoying his day off.





	Hand of God (The Do Unto You Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KaiserNoire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiserNoire/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hand of God](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17426840) by [KaiserNoire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiserNoire/pseuds/KaiserNoire). 



> For Misty, whose fic is a delight. I had a TON of fun working on this for you, and I hope you love it.

Keith’s alarm goes off at oh dark thirty, like usual, and he rolls over to swipe it into silence. Shiro’s alarm won’t go off today, because Shiro has a day off in the middle of the week, as he sometimes does, in order to make up for duty shifts on the weekend. It’s a Tuesday, in January, and even though they live in the desert, there’s a chill in the air that Shiro says is a taste of what winter feels like. Keith looks up at the ceiling. It’s always harder to get out of bed when Shiro isn’t already up and moving and making coffee. Keith wishes he’d managed to score the same day off too.

Keith grimaces at the ceiling. So, their days off don’t line up, it’s not like that’s never happened before. It’s just been a while. Keith rubs a hand down his face, beside him, Shiro sleeps on. It’s just that Keith loves lazy weekdays with Shiro. It feels indulgent to sleep in on a weekday and meander through chores and errands together before finding some time for a bit of afternoon delight. Not today, however, and with a huff, Keith heaves himself out of bed and then down the hall to the shower, leaving Shiro sprawled on his back in their bed.

Their bed. It still makes Keith shiver with delight and it’s been their bed for several years now. He twists the ring on his finger, enjoying the feel of the smooth band against his skin. Shiro’s had glinted in the barely there dawn light as Keith had slipped out of the bedroom, trying to be quiet so Shiro can keep sleeping. He’s going to miss Shiro today, he always does, but today feels like something more.

Keith gets into the shower.

When he gets out, the scent of coffee is in the air and he smiles to himself in the mirror. Shiro never can let him get up alone. Shiro meets him in the archway between the alcove that branches off to their bedroom and bathroom and the main living area of their quarters. He presses a cup of coffee into Keith’s hands and then leans down to kiss the apple of Keith’s cheek, one hand at the small of Keith’s back, the warmth bleeding through the material of Keith’s shirt.

They have breakfast, trade their datapads to share the headlines, and Shiro sends Keith off with a peck on the lips. Keith leaves with a smile on his face and a spring in his step that lasts until he is pulled into a meeting full of stuffed shirts and their droning presentations.

After that, the morning drags.

The meeting finally lets out just before lunch and Keith is the first one out of his chair. He’s antsy and restless, and getting worse by the minute. He checks his watch, he has enough time to run back to their quarters before his afternoon meetings, so he makes a beeline back to the other side of the base. 

As he approaches their door, he wonders if Shiro’s left for his run yet, as is his normal routine near lunch on a day off. Keith hopes not. There’s an itch beneath his skin that he knows Shiro can help him scratch. He’s already unbuttoning his jacket when he palms the door open, so he’s not looking up as he steps inside the room.

The sound comes to him first. Shiro’s voice, strained and thready. Keith’s head snaps up, the final button of his jacket entirely forgotten. The door slides shut behind him, nearly silent, and Keith reaches behind him, palming the lock. His hand over the pad muffles the chime, but Keith doesn’t think Shiro would have noticed the entire place coming down around him.

Shiro’s on the couch, head tipped back, eyes closed, legs spread wide, and one foot planted on the cushions. Shiro’s bent knee is in the way, but Keith knows what he’s doing without seeing it. Shiro doesn’t know Keith’s here, and maybe, Keith kind of likes knowing that, watching Shiro take himself apart is always a pleasure, but it’s different when Shiro doesn’t know he’s being watched. It’s both more and less restrained, and Keith’s hands curl into firsts, when Shiro breathes out on a hitching whine.

Keith knows Shiro gets randy when they’re apart, but he’d always assumed it was only when they separated by a galaxy or two, not a couple of hallways painted in Garrison orange and grey.

Keith steps forward, silent. Shiro doesn’t stop. Keith makes it all the way around to stand in front of Shiro, and Shiro has no idea he’s there. He’s beautiful, Keith thinks, all flushed and panting, bangs a tangle against his forehead and teeth in his lip. The Altean arm is pressing his cock down into the firm planes of his stomach, and Keith can hear the thrum of the vibrations. Shiro’s other hand disappears between his thighs. Shiro’s thighs are shaking. He’s a sight.

“Ah–ha, yeah,” Shiro groans, pressing his hand against his cock more firmly. How long, Keith wonders, has Shiro been holding himself on the edge. His cock is flushed deeply, pre-come smearing over his stomach every time Shiro’s body shudders. He’s close, Keith knows, but Shiro likes to hold out, likes to see how long he can stand it, before he has to give in.

Keith wants to see him fall apart. There’s something breathtaking about it, every time. It doesn’t matter how many times Keith has seen it, in how many different ways, it will never get old. Without thinking, Keith sinks to his knees in front of Shiro. He puts one hand on Shiro’s Altean arm, and one hand against Shiro’s own, and then Keith pushes on both.

“The–there we go,” Shiro breathes, and Keith grins, leaning a little more heavily into the Altean hand. “Oh shit,” Shiro gasps, then he’s gripping himself more firmly and Keith lets go of his arm, and drags his fingers, feather-light, up the swell of Shiro’s ribs, shifting to stand. “Yeah,” Shiro pants, “goo–d b–boy, Keith,  _ ah _ –”  

That’s a cue if Keith’s ever heard one, so he leans in close, mouth right next to Shiro’s ear. “I’m doing good, sir? What next?” Keith pitches his voice low, like gravel over velvet, because he knows when Shiro’s this far gone, it’ll be the only way it reaches him. Shiro gasps, and Keith draws back, in time to watch Shiro’s eyes focus, finding Keith. Keith holds his gaze, dropping his hand back down to where Shiro is fucking his own fist, hips still rolling against the vibrations in the Altean hand. 

“Baby, I–” Shiro’s voice is wrecked. “I–I need–”

“What do you need, sir?” Keith asks, still leaning over Shiro. It almost hurts to make Shiro ask, but this is the game, and Keith knows his role.

“You,” Shiro pants, “Inside, now.” Shiro’s voice trails off into a whine as Keith’s hand closes around his dick again, fingers slotting into the spaces between Shiro’s.

Ask him later, and Keith’ll tell you that it’s not always like this between them. There’s something in Shiro’s voice today, desperate and wanting, and it makes Keith’s blood fizz. Heat pools between them, liquid and indolent. Keith feels the rumble in his chest, knows he can’t stop it, so he leans in close again, and feels Shiro shiver against him as the growl rattles through them both. Keith blinks, and everything is sharper, more defined.

“Okay,” Keith says, shucking his pants with rapidity heretofore reserved only for life and death situations. Shiro’s still fucking himself with his own hand, and it’s hard to concentrate on anything with the cut-off noises Shiro’s making, but Keith manages, eventually, to get Shiro re-positioned. The sound Shiro makes when Keith tugs the Altean hand away is shattered by want, and Keith’s toes curl into their carpet.

“Hold here,” Keith says, guiding Shiro’s other hand to his own thigh. Shiro grips himself tight, holding himself open. Keith leans in with one hand, checking the slide, fingers slipping inside Shiro easily. “God, baby, how long were you working yourself open?”

“Keith,” Shiro says, on a moan as Keith deliberately catches his fingers against Shiro’s rim while he pulls them out.

Keith leaves his thumb there, lines up, and thrusts in. Shiro’s breath goes out of him in a long sigh, like he’s finally found what he was looking for this whole time. Keith takes his time, inch by inch, forward and back, listening to Shiro babble. Eventually, Keith’s fully seated and he takes a pause, because looking at Shiro is never a hardship, but looking at him like this - completely debauched on their couch - is something Keith really wishes he could take a picture of. Maybe next time. Keith’s hips stutter forward when Shiro clutches his hip.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Keith says, then, “sir,” because he knows it drives Shiro wild. There’s no answer from Shiro except the drawn out syllable of Keith’s name, but Keith doesn’t need any other kind of invitation. He pulls out and then bottoms out in a long slide, pulling back once more, before snapping his hips forward again. Every thrust punches a sound like he’s dying out of Shiro, and it sends a thrill up Keith’s spine, his scalp tingling. Keith’s free hand continues it’s consistent pressure against Shiro’s Altean hand, the vibrations shivering up the nerves of his arm and making all the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Shiro whines when Keith kicks forward particularly brutally, so Keith does it again, and again, and again. Keith grits his teeth in an effort not to lose it before he can get Shiro over the edge. Shiro’s hips meet Keith’s every time, and his hand on Keith’s hip grips so hard, Keith can already imagine the bruises he’ll brush his fingertips over in the shower later.

“Keith, Keith, Keith,” Shiro pants, every muscle straining, “c’mon, please, I need–”

“Yeah,” Keith says, and lets himself fall, hips snapping forward one last time. His climax goes through him like a freight train. His ears pop, and everything goes fuzzy around the edges. Shiro spills between them, hot and wet, against Keith’s hand.

For a long moment, neither of them says anything. Keith’s breath comes in heaving pants, matching Shiro’s. Keith leans in, pressing his forehead to Shiro’s, and then tilting his head so he can catch Shiro in a kiss. It’s soft and sweet, an utterly wonderful contrast to the overheated rush of their joining. When Shiro sighs into his mouth, Keith starts to pull away, lifting Shiro’s prosthetic off his stomach and setting it down next to them.

Shiro whines as Keith pulls out, and both of them hiss at the over-stimulation. Keith pets Shiro’s thigh, soothing what he knows as a feeling of loss with the warmth of his palm against Shiro’s skin. Shiro is pliant beneath Keith’s hands as he rearranges his husband, helping Shiro to sprawl a little more comfortably on the couch. Shiro goes where Keith puts him, and sinks, boneless, into the cushions when Keith steps away.

After shucking his pants, Keith wanders over to the kitchen, intent on finding a cloth. His eyes land on the spill of tea on the counter, and the two abandoned teapots. “Hey, Shiro?” Keith calls, over his shoulder. Shiro hmms in response, eyes still closed, body stretched out on the sofa. “Were you making tea?”

“Yeah?” Shiro’s question is hazy, and Keith’s mouth turns up.

Keith pads back out of the kitchen, and drops the washcloth on Shiro’s stomach. “Don’t tell me you got side-tracked while making tea?”

Shiro huffs. “Shut  _ up _ , Keith.” No matter that Shiro turns his face to bury it in the throw pillow, Keith can still see the blush riding high on his cheeks. 

“I’m not complaining, baby,” Keith says, turning the sweep of his palm down Shiro’s thigh into a pinch behind Shiro’s knee. “Not everyone can get so horny they forget about their tea every time their partner leaves for more than five minutes.”

“Fuck you,” Shiro grouses, good-natured and warm.

“Maybe later,” Keith agrees, and leans in, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s knee and looking up to catch the interested look on Shiro’s face. “If you’re good.”

“Baby,” Shiro says, reaching for Keith with his now clean hand. Keith leans into Shiro’s touch, his palm cupping Keith’s jaw. “I’m  _ always _ good.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith says, then, “I have to get back, got another couple of meetings this afternoon.”

Shiro puts on an exaggerated pout. “But baby,” he whines, “what’ll I do for the rest of the day?”

Keith smothers a laugh and turns his head, so he can press a kiss to Shiro’s palm. “Love you, Shiro,” he says, standing up.

“Love you too, babe,” Shiro replies, then yawns mightily, his jaw cracking audibly. “Think I’ll have a nap.”

“Put some pants on, you’ll scare the neighbours,” Keith says, as he gathers up his own clothes. The itch between his shoulder blades has settled into the usual warmth he feels under his ribs when he looks at Shiro, sacked out on the couch, wearing his sleep shirt and nothing else. “Pants,” Keith hisses, swatting at Shiro’s side, “seriously.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Please come and chat with me about my fic on [tumblr](http://sequencefairy.tumblr.com) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/warpspeed_chic).


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